


A Kind of Instinct

by shortystylee



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship, ben gets a pretty woman makeover, the formula one AU that no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 20:31:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12660888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortystylee/pseuds/shortystylee
Summary: While backpacking through Europe, Ben Solo finds himself accidentally in Monaco the weekend of the Grand Prix and in the capable hands of Rey, a British girl with poor French skills who he assumes is just a pretty rich girl on holiday, but he doesn't decline when she offers to show him around for the weekend.





	A Kind of Instinct

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zendelai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zendelai/gifts).



She has absolutely no idea what the store clerk is saying to her. She’d tried to ask what she thought was a simple question about the filling in the various pastries, but her awful French isn’t cutting it today. Rey is almost ready to just turn and leave, commit the egregious sin of going to a Starbucks in a place like Monaco, when a tall man with an absurdly large backpack comes up beside her out of nowhere, says god knows what to the clerk in perfect French, and before she can figure out what’s going on, he hands his credit card across the counter to pay for his food _and_ hers.

 

“Merci, merci,” she says, since she knows she’s got at least _that_ phrase correct. He hands her the pastry and latte she’d tried to order. “Um, jay… dammit. Je m’appelle…”

 

He puts his free hand on her shoulder. “I’m American, sweetheart.”

 

“Oh, thank god. You’d think with how often I’m here that my French would be better.” She walks next to him as they exit the café, and he gestures towards an empty table on the sidewalk. _Might as well, not like I’ll be having a conversation with anyone else around here_. There’s something interesting about this guy, the American who is obviously backpacking around Europe, who seems 150% out of place in a café in Monaco, the night before the Grand Prix. He saved her a minute ago, so she ignores that he’s called her ‘sweetheart,’ an offense that normally wouldn’t fly with her. “I’m Rey, by the way,” she says. “And I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you had no clue the Grand Prix is this weekend.”

                                                                                          

“Ben,” he says. “And what gave me away?”

 

“Giant hiking backpack, jeans, maybe the flip-flops… I can continue.”

 

“You’re not wrong. I was just passing through initially, didn’t even realize it was race weekend until I got off at the train station. Thought it’d be cool to see what all the hype is about.” He answers her nonchalantly, as if hanging out in one of the most expensive cities in the world on the eve of its biggest event of the year is a real casual thing to do. He’s cute though, she decides, there’s something she likes about how his nose is a bit crooked and his hair is grown out of its style during his travel, and as far as she can tell, he doesn’t have that _smell_ that some of the backpackers have. She wants to ask him all about where he’s been, but when she looks down at his backpack and sees what he recognizes as a sleeping bag clipped to the two bottom straps, a more pressing question dawns on her.

 

“Wait, where do you even plan on staying? Every hotel here books years in advance.”

 

He looks around the area and then shrugs his shoulders. “…the park? It’s a small country, but there’s gotta be a park, right?”

 

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Rey replies. She’d almost have choked on her pastry if she hadn’t half expected that to be his answer. “You’ll get arrested for that, especially this weekend. You can… you can stay with me,” she says, the words leaving her mouth in a rush.

 

“What?” Now it’s his turn to almost choke on his food.

 

“I know it sounds like a horrible idea on my part, but I’ve got an apartment. Two bedrooms. And I’ve got plenty of time to show you around today. I happen to know the city pretty well.”

 

“You’re here for the race then?” With that change of subject he realizes he just basically agreed to spend the night at her apartment. He’s depended on plenty of strangers’ kindnesses during the last two months of travel, and he fully understands this is much more a leap of faith on her part to trust him into her space than it is for him to trust her.

 

“You could say that.” She finishes up the last bit of food and adjusts the plastic lid on her coffee cup. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and then we can explore.”

 

“Cleaned up?”

 

“Yea, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re a bit underdressed for this city.” She stands and offers him her hand. “I’ve got a friend who can help with your clothes.” Ben takes her hand and agrees, pulling his backpack off the ground and slinging it over his shoulder. These months of sabbatical he’d taken from work were supposed to be like this, right? Something about going with the flow and doing whatever the moment led him to? _And if that moment includes a pretty English lady on holiday, who am I to complain?_ He follows her through winding streets, the crowds of tourists lessening as they go, until they finally arrive at a men’s clothier tucked away down an alley.

 

“Maz?” Rey calls when they walk in, and she lets out a sigh of relief when the tiny old woman comes towards her. “In a bit of a pinch today, I need some help for my friend here.” She walks away from Ben and starts to peruse through the suits hanging in the store. It’s when he sees her carefully fingering through fabric samples that he realizes just how posh she is. She’s not even dressed particularly fancy since it’s only late morning, but in black capris, matching flats, and a red and white striped boat neck top she looks like she’s meant for this type of place. There’s a silk scarf printed with blue anchors on it around her neck, tied in a complicated Boy Scout badge earning knot, and she’s got a white leather purse on a gold chain-link strap over her shoulder.

 

“Let’s do… oh, how about a summer suit? Linen?” Rey suggests. “Seersucker isn’t in anymore, is it?” Maz shakes her head, looking appalled. “Linen then. And he’ll need something black tie for tonight.”

 

Maz pulls Ben from where he’s still standing by the entrance and pushes him towards a small step in front of a full length mirror, then pulls out a tape measure from her apron and gets to work taking his measurements. “Your date for the gala came without a tux?” she asks Rey.

 

“It’s a bit of a story, Maz. You can still help though, right?”

 

“Whatever you need, doll. They’ll have to be off the rack though, what with this type of rush.”

 

Rey thanks her, tells her it’s perfect, and a few seconds after Maz is finished with Ben’s measurements he’s being shoved into the dressing room along with a handful of suits and tops. It’s really just a small part of the store partitioned from the rest by a curtain, and he listens to Rey making plans with the owner while he tries on each suit she gave him. He decides, or rather Rey and Maz decide on a two piece khaki-colored linen suit, and a light blue button down shirt, with a pocket square in a slightly darker blue, which Rey has to fold for him. He’s thankful there’s no tie included, but when Maz brings out a pair of wing-tip shoes in caramel-colored leather that look like they cost more money that he thinks he used to make in a month, he has to ask the question that’s been pounding in his head since he stepped in this place.

 

“Rey, I don’t know how you think I’m going to be able to pay for all of this.”

 

“Nonsense, child,” Maz chimes in before Rey is able to get a word out. “This is a favor for my Rey. Besides, if you think you cannot afford the shoes, then you really cannot afford the tux that will be dropped off at Rey’s apartment tonight.”

 

He tries to protest again when his brain registers the word ‘tux,’ but Rey and Maz both shush him quiet. “Listen,” Rey starts, “I know you didn’t really expect the Pretty Woman treatment when you agreed to let me show you around today… but it’ll be fun? I promise.”

 

“And the tux?”

 

“I sort of have a bit of an event tonight to attend and I’m fresh out of handsome young men to escort me, so I was hoping you’d be up for it.” She tilts her head to the side and smiles at him, then adds, “Plus there’ll be a ton of free food…”

 

 _In for a penny, in for a pound_. In the course of last hour, he’s gone from thinking she’s just maybe the daughter of some doctor or investment banker, on holiday to her family’s apartment for the race, to thinking that somehow he’s been spending time with a genuine socialite. Probably the old money kind that will never need to get a job, a carefree young lady who’s used to dividing her time between Monaco and some island in the Caribbean, who gauges the time of year by whether she’s attending the Grand Prix, or Kentucky Derby, or Wimbledon. “What the hell? Sure,” he replies. “Don’t think I’ve worn a tux since prom, so this could be fun.”

 

“Oh, yes, yes!” She claps her hands together a few times excitedly, as she crosses the few steps over to him and grabs both his hands, giving them a little shake being letting go. “You can leave your backpack here, Maz will have a courier drop it off at my apartment later, along with your tux. Now put those shoes on so we can get to exploring.”

 

He doesn’t share his assumption of her being a socialite with her, since even if it is true Ben thinks she seems like the type that would take offense to it, and in all honesty, he’s got zero clue why in the hell she’s taken a liking to him, but he doesn’t want to give her any reason to decide otherwise. Whatever her background, she certainly knows the city like the back of her hand. Thankfully the city, _well, whole country_ , is small enough that they’re able to hit all the spots he’s heard about, from Le Rocher to Grimaldi Square, and everywhere else she can think of. They get some choice looks from a couple dressed light years nicer than them as they take a selfie in front of the Monte Carlo Casino. Everywhere is crowded with tourists, the media, and reporters from all around the world, but Rey somehow doesn’t mind, never letting the crowds get to her. When the fancy couple at the Monte Carlo scoff at them, she laughs it off, pulling Ben down to whisper to him that, “those two’d enjoy life a lot more without that stick up their ass.”

 

When they arrive back at her apartment building just after five, the doorman rushes up from behind his stand to open the door for her and greets both Rey and him cordially. He mentions that he had one of the boys take the packages that arrived up to her unit as he holds open the elevator door and pushes her floor button for her.

 

“Holy shit,” Ben says under his breath, when he steps into her apartment. It’s modern, white walls, dark leather furniture, steel and glass coffee tables and bookshelves, a balcony with a spectacular view of the marina, but the walls are covered with large theater-sized framed Grand Prix posters, some recent and some from the 50s and 60s. The bookshelf in front of him has model racecars and there’s a checkered flag strung up on the wall behind the couch. He vaguely realizes she’s walked off down the hallway, but he keeps looking around her apartment full of memorabilia. “Christ, Rey,” he starts again, when he hears footsteps on the hardwood coming towards him. “You must really be looking forward to watching the race tomorrow, huh?”

 

“Watching the race?” she asks. Ben turns on his heel to face her and has to pick his jaw off the ground when he sees her cradling a white full-face racing helmet with the Lotus racing logo on the side. “Ben, I plan on _winning_ the race.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea in my WIP file for a bit now, and after some coaxing it's finally getting posted. All my racing knowledge is from the university of Google. 
> 
> For T, who also shares my love for fancy cars and Ben Solo headcanons, and doesn't seem to mind my plot bunny Facebook messages.


End file.
